Who were you before the world told you who you were supposed to be? – Jo Saxton

Humans are complex beings. Our identities are an amalgamation of experiences, beliefs, and the circumstances we were born into. In large part, who we are is informed by love: who we love and who loves us back. And while I wish familial love or the plutonic love of friendships was enough to ground us, the fact is that many of us define ourselves through romantic love.

When I finally got married in my 30’s, I embraced my newfound identity as “wife.” I liked being a nurturer, home maker, and partner. To prepare myself, I had read books, met regularly with married friends, and listened to podcasts. It sounds ridiculous, but I am an oldest child and overachiever, so I planned to be great at this whole wife thing.

What I didn’t understand then was that wife is a just a role we play, albeit important, and one of many. So when, starting very early in my wife career, I found myself failing, it shattered my identity. I wrestled for months about what this meant about who I was, launching me into a full blown search for answers.

I went back to all those sources I previously relied on: wise friends, the Bible, podcasts, and now therapy. I started forming a new understanding of identity – one that was deeply rooted in who I believed I was instead of who I thought I was supposed to be. And I finally came to understand that no person or group could be the compass for that.

I became aware of the many flaws that needed exposing and layers of diseased, emotional skin that required exfoliation. There were my dysfunctional communication habits – passive aggressiveness and an avoidance of conflict. A general lack of emotional intelligence and therefore self awareness. There was a need for precision in everyday discussions. Oh, and the pride of always wanting to be right. And these are of course just a few, and all still works in progress. Certainly marriage is a powerful mirror that reveals our deepest blemishes.

And thank God for that season.

When my role as wife ended for good, it shook me to the core, but it didn’t destroy me as one might expect. You see, it was no longer the most defining part of me. If anything, the loss created space for me to discover more of my truth.

In addition to my deficiencies, I also discovered some good things. I could persevere under very difficult circumstances. I could love my husband in action when I had neither the desire nor motivation. I could remain faithful in the face of temptation and I could stay steadfast to the covenant I had made though it was at great personal cost to me.

Today, I wear the reality of the divorce like a cloak that needs to be removed when meeting new people. It comes off early and quickly, but otherwise hangs quietly on the coat rack. Conversely, the beliefs I now hold about who I am – God’s daughter, a faithful friend, a trustworthy advisor and more – remain like skin that can’t be peeled off with the strongest of microderm abrasions. The superficial finally removed to reveal the significant.

[Photo: My sister and I circa 1982]